


Omnipotent Provocation

by lulahbelle



Category: Suicide Kings (1997)
Genre: Breathplay, Humiliation, M/M, Masochism, Strangulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:52:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulahbelle/pseuds/lulahbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avery makes Brett almost as angry as he makes him aroused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Omnipotent Provocation

**Author's Note:**

> -This was written with the intention of people who aren't in this film fandom to read it so it introduces the characters a bit.  
> -I wrote this years ago, in 2009, because I love Henry Thomas and always felt his character in the film, Avery, was pretty subby to Jay Mohr's character Brett who is brilliantly dominant in the film. Also Avery is an extreme gambling addict and something about that always smacked of masochism to me.

_"Reason only satisfies man's rational requirements, desire on the other hand accompanies everything, and desire is life."_ Dostoevsky 1864 Notes from the Underground.  
  
  
The self-important voices of the young poker players filled the room to breaking point. Although technically the players were friends it was not a friendly game. All the assembled were the sons of wealthy men and, as if it was inherited, all they cared about was winning more money.  
  
Well all except Avery Chasten.   
  
A dark, thick haired young man of twenty-five with a thoughtful, anxious nature, Avery's losses were frequent, and their stupid nature confusing.

His motives in always joining his friends in their games were not well explained, but as he was the only son of the Manhattan Chastens and therefore, on paper, the richest man in the room, his 'friends' tended to focus more on the fact that he could loose, ignoring any suspicion that he maybe had a deeper determination to.  
  
Shallow understandings were all that were sought in this crowd.  
  
***  
  
Having lost a painful amount, again, Avery retired to a nearby couch with alcohol to occupy him. In time as the others played on he passed out. The others mostly ignored him but indifference was not an option for all.

Brett, a blonde, aggressive sort of a creature as well as Avery's best friend of some years standing, was just at a high winning point in the game at the time and eager to get out of it rose to check on him.

All the while telling himself, of course, that it was only a desire to stop playing and nothing like concern for his friend that had prompted his behaviour.

Over Avery's impromptu bed he bent, and down, close to his friend's ear, in a brisk voice that belied little worry, said.  
  
"Avery go to bed man."  
  
Reassuringly, for he had been known to sometimes sink into unrousable stupors, Avery pushed himself up to sitting at his voice, and the inky forelock of his hair flicked messily over one pale eyelid.

Slowly coming to accept consciousness, he asked with a grumble of sickness.  
  
"Would you come up with me?"  
  
Avery's weakness aroused Brett's desire to help him but at the same time the temper that he launched at perceived threats. Brett didn't want to react defensively towards his friend but his true, tender feeling for him gave him no choice.  
  
Mocking him, he spat. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You know you're a little too old to be afraid of monsters under the bed!"  
  
"I don't feel well." Avery protested.  
  
Brett exhaled sharply in irritation at that and exclaimed for the benefit of anyone listening,   
  
"Un-fucking believable!"  
  
Even though inside Brett's rather genuine anger was overwhelmed by Avery's vulnerability, appearances were what they were, so as he made his way up the stairs behind his sleepy friend, he made sure to further annouce aloud, for the benefit of the other men.  
  
"Guys, carry on without me for a minute, ok. I'm gonna put Princess here to bed."   
  
Framing his decision to accompany his friend to his room, as a stoic show of his practicality and nothing like desire, to a group of men who scarcely scrutinised anyone like him enough to ever question it.  
  
***  
  
In Avery's room, Brett briskly unbuttoned the dark boy's white shirt for him with a false disinterest.  
  
Then with sudden, unexpected quickness, Avery slapped a flat palm lightly against Brett's cheek, his eyes narrowing at the same time, as if he was checking a hallucination for realness.  
  
"I'm so high I can't see straight!" he informed Brett with a flinching smile.  
  
Brett looked away rapidly and didn't look back to him, carrying on with his task, the apparent epitome of disregard. Whilst this would normally have caused led Avery to feel rejected enough to shyly clam up again, all he felt now was safe from Brett's scorn. Safe enough, that posessed of a childish curiosity, the desire for a risk, he lunged forwards and awkwardly kissed his friend's cheek.  
  
"Stop it!"  
  
Brett spat, not at ease with Avery's over affection. The last time he had let him do that and what it had led to, was now a distant memory of a boyishness accidentally gone awry, one that with the loyalty of lifelong friends they had forgotten about now and Brett really did not want any resumption.  
  
"Ok." Avery agreed, with a smile that Brett took to be sheepish, but then, in almost the same second as he agreed he wouldn't, Avery leant in and touched his lips to Brett's face again. His warm mouth was allowed to linger longer this time before the blonde protested with a further growl of.  
  
"Stop it!"  
  
"Sorry. I don't even know what I'm doing."   
  
Avery's words left a rictus mouth but his face also carried a smile, borne of ill-advised nervous excitement. He was exhilirated by his lack of control, an attitude that Brett couldn't fathom, for Brett felt the threat of his own unpredictability in Avery's behaviour and his only, sensible, reaction to that possible mutual abandon was fear.  
  
"Avery look, we're not doing anything ok, now would ya go to bed please, it's been a long fucking night!"  
  
Avery, shocking himself, laughed at that, a brittle, mocking laugh of the type that he had never really felt confident enough to use to Brett before. With a precise image of wilful destruction tripping through his head, Avery then stood taller and straighter, until his stance made it clear that he viewed his friend's resistance as a challenge.  
  
"Don't!" Brett warned, as like a lion tamer he reapproached Avery, this time unbuttoning his cuffs, carefully and calmly, just to prove to himself that he was still in control of himself and the situation. Needing to feel, not only that he wasn't tempted by the proposition but that he was also unafraid of it, even as the terror actually ate at him inside.  
  
"Can I undress you?" Avery asked shockingly direct, in a gasping sound from lips almost still.  
  
He was terrified that Brett would refuse but all his thoughts bunched up behind his need to push and with a drugged, anxiety laden persistance his desires had flooded out. Brett said nothing in response, trying to ignore the request. Avery paused for less than a second before he began to undo the buttons at the bottom of Brett's shirt without his permission.  
  
Avery was normally so minimal and passive, a man whose every need was normally denied and easily so. He was not himself tonight though, but rather the result of some chemical emboldener. Brett eyed the change in his friend eye's with an uncharacteristically witless passivity, unable to refuse, finding this shocking difference that had come over his friend's nature enthralling. As Brett's blue eyes were glued to his wide face, Avery's expression went sullen with concentration and seduction and with his eyes closed, Avery kissed Brett again lightly, this time on the mouth, refusing rejection. Brett found his body react to his friend's vulnerable vehemence, the fact that Avery wanted him so bad just made Brett hard, he couldn't help it. The panicked refusal in his head morphed rapidly into something else as beneath his brogues a stimulated warmth settled in his groin, where it burnt ceaselessly,  
  
Still, even surrendered Brett needed to hold something back, to control something and easily within his grasp was Avery's tie, which he grabbed by the knot, pulling his friend closely to him as he warned him with a threat of violence.  
  
"Don't make a sound!"   
  
Avery just laughed at that with mirthless defiance and Brett lashed out at his failiure to take him seriously, grabbing harder to the knot, twisting in it his hands until his knuckles cinched tight into Avery's neck, holding him hard against his larger body this time, as he threatened him again.  
  
"Seriously Avery, shut the fuck up! You make a sound I'll strangle you!"  
  
Brett's terror was present in his anger in the pants all the while escaping his keyed up system.  
  
The opposite of offended by Brett's dominating tightness of grip and terse words, Avery's fingertips dusted down the column of buttons on his friend's shirt to meet the undone ones at the bottom, then entered his clothes questing for his skin. Upon exposing Brett's chest, the darker man's hands then slipped around his friend's waist, embracing him, then he bent his head and with an uncanny instinct not to go for Brett's mouth, or face again, kissed his neck.  
  
"Hurry up!" Brett ordered him, but Avery didn't appear to listen, just continued his kisses slow and sensual.  
  
Unable to process anything apart from fear that someone would come in and catch them, Brett's bent was for going quicker and everything about Avery's ignorant slowness made him rage and he grabbed the kissing man hard, around his neck this time, making Avery's hazel eyes return up to his at once, with a sharp and unwavering obediance. Brett marvelled at the anxiety that left him as they did, he suddenly felt grounded and righteous in what they were doing.  
  
The connection was so palpable and Avery didn't struggle at all, so Brett's hands stayed put, then pushing Avery back to a wall and feeling his own strength, he exerted a touch more pressure on the man beneath him, enough so that he could really feel it. In reaction, panting a little in exertion and shock, Avery's hand's weakly rose to free his neck. Then, as though not fancying his strength against Brett's his hands eased back down again. Brett found his eyes gloating into his friend's spitefully as he lightly choked him and Avery just took it, accepted it, his face becoming flushed slightly in stress, emitting a subterranean choking sound. Then his eyes closed to dark slits, withdrawn.  
  
Sublime and beautiful surrender and Brett wanted to kiss him, to make a mush of his flesh with kisses but instead he stared to see it's glorious elaboration and how it made his cock ache for fulfillment.  
  
Until, although Brett had never felt so perfect, he found he had to stop. Suddenly coming to see his actions from some external viewpoint, not enmeshed in their bond, he was scared of what he was doing, then, embarrassed by it. He withdrew rapidly but before he could remove his hands entirely, Avery's eyes flashed open, and with moves of speed and need, grabbed Bret's grasp in his own hands, pressing it back into his neck again, as he said.  
  
"It's ok."  
  
They stared at one another for a long time, examined each other as though they had each located a counterfeit version of their friend, until Brett asked loudly, laughing nervously with false shock,  
  
"Avery! Is this turning you on?"  
  
There was a judgemental, accusatory air designed to induce shame in his voice. The spiteful mocking tone that he used habitually to humiliate other people turning on his friend with a defensive ease. Trying desperately to force Avery to take the blame, trying to feel revolted and ashamed of Avery and what he wanted.  
  
Hardly sober enough to feel self-conscious, Avery barely paused before falling back onto Brett's throat with confirmatory vigor, nibbling a little awkwardly. Then stooping down low until his head fell over Brett's shoulder, he unzipped Brett's brogues and as he did, began pushing his own throat into the unyielding hardness of his friend's shoulder. Brett didn't move, couldn't put his arms around him, just shivered with anticipation, as blind his friend tackled his belt buckle.  
  
Avery himself feinted away in pleasure, the fear and effort at his own choking restriction of oxygen made his breathing amplified and hearing himself made his head fill with light. He was lost to anything but the sensation of stress in his bent over posture, the pain and of the instrumental task of his hands.  
  
The helpless almost impaling movement that Avery made and his obvious ecstasy, alongside the contact of his dark head against his chin, caused Brett's dick to strain harder and harder against the spot of fabric that Avery's hands peeled away and.  
  
"Fuck!"  
  
Brett gasped as he was exposed. His harshness terrified Avery to total stillness almost as much as it encouraged him, but he carried on, pushing through the anxiety he felt by refusing to breathe, as his body sweated beneath his vest, creating an aura of heat which flushed Brett.

  
Very much looking over Brett's shoulder Avery touched his friends cock in the gap between their bodies, skittish, bitten down fingers splayed to contact all its rigid heat. Then his palm slid over it, pulling his fingers to curl into a fist around the head of him. Avery tugged at Brett minimally from there, processing what he did with some trepidation that was not helped when Brett, reacting to his slow pace, thrust his own hand ontop urging him to go faster. It startled him, made him unsure, but gradually, compulsively the muscles in his arm responded and he did go faster, making a shushing, shuffling noise of breath and friction.  
  
Still Avery's inhibitions fought him all the way and struggling to keep up the movement against the anxious frozen condition they had on his muscles was a strain that meant that gradually his arm hurt visciously with every stroke. Still he continued, he wanted so hard to do this, even though every inch of him as it tore with pain telegraphed that it was a bad idea and tried to stop him. It made no sense to destroy a relationship that was all he had, as he knew Brett would not be able to cope with this. Last time had been different, Brett's idea, now he could hate Avery for this and he would.  
  
It was as though the badness of what he was attracting had somehow made it paramount in his desires, his needs were topsy turvy compared to those of the rest of the world though, he had always known it.  
  
Brett began throwing out rasps of,  
  
"Oh man, maan."  
  
Avery tried to smile at the depth of his friend's surrender to him but mostly needed the concentration to keep jerking him off against his instincts to stop. Brett's eyes closed, lost in the depths of ecstasy, as all the while despite his head filling with light and his groin burning with desire. Avery's face remained still.  
  
Once the rhythm was established, cemented by the stretching pain to a quick shuffling, something made Avery kiss Brett impulsively beneath his ear, whilst he could, whilst he wasn't looking at him. There was a real dubious pleasure to catching him off guard, to stealing from him that was probably rooted in that fact that Brett had always hated any physical affection like that. Avery enjoyed the slither of triumph.  
  
Quiet, entirely silent and focused Avery was shocked when Brett reached out blindly to unzip his flies. He shifted his pelvis toward him to allow his erection to be pulled out of his underwear and then on Brett went in the same movement with a lingering, loving slowness, his grasp catching him hard at the end of each stroke. Their rhythm accomadated the mutual rubbing and Brett's breaths seemed lower, painful, collecting at the end of his oxygen to swarm out of him. Then gradually as he got more carried away than he could control, moans forced their way out, albeit only under the greatest duress.  
  
Avery found silence easier to come by via a few fluttery nervous pants, suppressing himself, even when Brett rubbed over the most sensitive spot on his dick and even as his friend's other hand firmly stroked his stomach muscles, in an almost admiring way, sending lassoes of fulfillment ricocheting around his body.  
  
"It's gonna happen," Brett said, signalling his own ejaculation. His voice was hard and threatening and a swell of pre ejaculate came from Avery just at how the sound forced itself through his whispery pants. Then at this warning Brett settled his own hand around his dick and balls, displacing Avery's assistance - as if he didn't quite trust that his friends jerking would satisfy him, and he came like that, eyes closed, blotting out Avery's very presence, as if trying to imagine that his friend had never even been there.  
  
As much as that tortured Avery, it also made his insides knot tensely and, when that happened he was so close to release himself that he found himself smiling.

More pain heaped on the burning weight of his load in his balls, which continued climbing higher and higher because finally free of his own arousal, Brett seemed to be no longer interested in touching Avery's hardness. Instead the blonde trailed the hand he had cum into across Avery's face with specific focus on his lips, aiming at the resolutely closed parting of his thin mouth.  
  
But although repugnance tried to make itself known to Avery, when the man's other hand sank down his chest and palm stretched wide assailed his throbbing dick as it lay flat against his stomach, Avery found himself moan deeply for the first time. The sound further churning his stomach as he refused to open his mouth to Brett's other hand whose fingers still danced over his lips.  
  
Brett could feel Avery expectant of his every grasp to the point that he was shivering and spitefully he refused to touch him any more, hand hovering over his penis, as he asked him instead.  
  
"You want that?"  
  
Feeling his dignity entirely expired Avery frantically nodded his head, eyes fixed darkly and obediantly to his friends.  
  
"This?"  
  
The protracted teasing hurt terribly but Brett needed to build a wall of hatred and spite towards the other man, to seperate from him, lessen him.  
  
"Tell me."  
  
As Avery opened his mouth to speak, Brett stealthily slipped his fingers between his lips. Avery tried to compel his arms to push him away but they stayed by his side, limply grasping his humiliation instead. The taste of saltiness on his lips, ghosting back over his tongue as he reflexively tried to remove the contamination through swallowing.  
  
Almost as a reward Brett jerked him off then, hard and continous, fist painfully fast up and down his shaft, leaving a slight burn with it's relief. Avery's head smacked back against the wall, but it didn't take long before he could feel his back arching off it, an involuntary seizure of muscle, followed by the most intense burning fill of pleasure. He wanted desperately to hang on, to prolong the threat of momentum but every millisecond it slipped from him.  
  
"Brett!" he said, his voice a pathetic mew of fear, nervous about an impending loss of control, as it had been the first time he'd been sick.  
  
"Just do it Avery! God! Quick, quick." He demanded, almost angry at him and at that demanding voice Avery lost it immediately. He made a sound like he was crying and he almost felt the threat of it, as everything shattered, as the heavy tiredness of used limbs, overextended muscles returned to him in a frantic, sensual rush.  
  
Brett laughed at him when he came.  
  
"God Avery! Fuck!"  
  
He exclaimed as he hobbled into the en suite to wipe his hands on the guest towel. His excitement soon iced over though and by the time his clothes were assembled enough to pass for untampered to a distant inspection, his speech had switched from mocking to outrage.  
  
"Oh man I can't believe that, fuck why, why did you do that to me!"  
  
Avery gave him no reply and soon the door slammed behind him.  
  
Avery's heart beat tremulous, he thought he was going to cry or vomit but it filled his belly with a warmth that he couldn't contend with. As he slipped down the wall to sit on the floor, taking out the light with a swipe of the finger he thought to himself every disaster of finance paled in comparison to what Brett did to him.


End file.
